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I come, I come! prepare your roseat bow'rs, Celestial palms, and ever-blooming flow'rs. Thither, where finners may have rest, I go, Where flames refin'd in breafts feraphic glow: 320 Thou, Abelard! the laft fad office


And smooth my paffage to the realms of day;
See my lips tremble, and my eye-balls roll,
Suck my last breath, and catch my flying foul!
Ah no--- in facred vestments may'st thou stand,
The hallow'd taper trembling in thy hand, 326
Present the cross before
lifted eye,


Teach me at once, and learn of me to die.

Ah then, thy once-lov'd Eloïfa fee !

It will be then no crime to gaze on me.

See from my cheek the tranfient rofes fly!
See the last sparkle languish in my eye!
'Till ev'ry motion, pulse, and breath be o'er;
Abelard be lov'd no more.

And ev❜n my
O Death all-eloquent! you only prove



What duft we doat on, when 'tis man we love.

Then too, when fate fhall thy fair frame destroy, (That cause of all my guilt, and all my joy) In trance extatic may thy pangs be drown'd, Bright clouds defcend, and Angelswatch thee round,

From op'ning skies may streaming glories fhine, And Saints embrace thee with a love like mine.

May one kind grave unite each hapless name, And graft my love immortal on thy fame! Then, ages hence, when all my woes are o'er, 345 When this rebellious heart fhall beat no more; If ever chance two wand'ring lovers brings To Paraclete's white walls and filver fprings, O'er the pale marble fhall they join their heads, And drink the falling tears each other sheds; 350 Then fadly fay, with mutual pity mov'd,

Oh may we never love as thefe have lov'd!" From the full choir, when loud Hofannas rife, And fwell the pomp of dreadful facrifice, Amid that scene if fome relenting eye

Glance on the stone where our cold relics lie,


Devotion's self shall steal a thought from heav'n,
One human tear fhall drop, and be forgiv'n.

And sure if fate some future bard shall join
In fad fimilitude of griefs to mine,



VER. 343. May one kind grave, etc.] Abelard and Eloïfa were interred in the fame grave, or in monuments adjoining, in the Monastery of the Paraclete; he died in the year 1142, fhe in 1163. P.

Condemn'd whole in absence to deplore,


And image charms he must behold no more;
Such if there be, who loves fo long, fo well;
Let him our fad, our tender ftory tell!
The well-fung woes will footh my penfive ghost;
He best can paint 'em who shall feel 'em most.




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